


Dinner Date

by brennivin



Category: Alpha Protocol
Genre: Anal Sex, Brayko being Brayko, Established Relationship, Foot Fetish, Frequent mispronunciation of Michael's name, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Recreational Drug Use, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Sex Toys Under Clothing, Switching, Table Sex, Unsafe Sex, dinner date in gay hell, excessively bad table manners
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-18
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-11-23 09:07:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18149876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brennivin/pseuds/brennivin
Summary: Brayko brings his boyfriend over to his house for a so-called "Dinner Date" and things get a little out of hand.Every now and then I write something so niche the pairing has no tag. Yeah, keep scrolling.





	Dinner Date

Brayko was the kind of eccentric that only happened during a major culture shift.

His whole mansion was decked out like some kind of 1980s movie setting. He had a goddamned disco hall in his house. Sure, after the end of communism there had been a wild influx of American culture, but Brayko took it to the next level.

The invitation had been a little unexpected. After all, it would soon be time to leave Moscow for his next objective. However, since they had come to a mutually beneficial agreement the last time the two had met

Konstantin’s house was bigger than any place most guys could ever hope to own, even in his business. It would be the first time Michael had come here unarmed, and the first time he’d ever eaten here.

The spread was impressive – if anything it was too much.

“Apologies, _Michail.”_ The younger man pronounced his name with a certain Russian drawl that had grown on him recently. “I did not know what to have made for you so I had a selection prepared.”

Agent Thorton looked at the buffet table that stretched along one wall of his huge dining room, scanning the array of seafood dishes, roast meats and fried foods.

“I’m certainly not complaining, Konstantin.”

The gangster looked over the rim of his glass, whiskey and lemonade passing his lips as he listened carefully. Whenever Michael said his name he seemed to stop in his tracks as if he was partially frozen.

“Well, help yourself Michail. It is for you.”

They went together to serve themselves some food. Thorton was pretty hungry so he stacked his plate with fried shrimp, slices of beef and hot potatoes. Konstantin watched him, remarked about his healthy appetite and then led him to their table. A bunch of Brayko’s guys were eating at tables around the room.

All the tables had dramatic red tablecloths and posh candlesticks. The candles were _black._ It seemed Brayko’s flair for theatrics knew no limit. When he’d said ‘Dinner Date’ Michael had expected wine and lasagna or something.

He always pulled out every trick he could think of to try and impress Michael. When they had first met he had flashed his coke and expensive weapons wildly, turned the music up and put on all the lights in the most decorated room of the house. After he had been beaten down by Michael – what kinda guy beat an armed man with his bare hands anyway – he’d made the trip to his safehouse with a whole decoration team to set up a sound system for him and a fucking disco ball. Then he’d let him fuck him senseless against one of his huge windows, pressed into the glass and screaming for Michael to let him cum.

Brayko was insatiable. Maybe it was all the goddamn cocaine, xanax and MDMA he packed into himself, or maybe he was just some kind of monster. Michael had only had the pleasure of fucking him a few times now, but so far the kid’s enthusiasm was limitless. He rolled his hips like a porn star and begged for more like he was starving. His bad-boy image melted away the moment he had a cock inside him – then he was a total slut for it. He was an interesting specimen, definitely.

The table he had made his men prepare for them was tucked away behind thick curtains, glowing from the low light of the wall sconces and the table’s candles. They sat down to eat, not saying much for a while and just delighting in being able to relax and stuff themselves.

Michael felt Brayko tease one ankle with his shoe. He heard his shoe drop to the floor quietly. He felt the shape of his bare foot against his shin.

He looked up at the younger man, who was sipping at his drink agonisingly slowly. There was hunger in his eyes as he drew a trail along Michael’s leg with his foot, and rested his sole between his legs.

He was hard as a rock. All that thinking before about how he’d plowed Brayko against his safehouse window had got him excited. Normally it was Konstantin who was the pushy and desperate one. Normally he was the one begging for it, but right now he had Michael wrapped around his finger. He pressed down on Michael’s erection, forcing him to bite down on his lip to suppress a moan.

“Oh, _Michail_.” He muttered, running his foot slowly along the length of the american’s cock through his pants.

Just the sound of the young man saying his name made him squirm. He ached to get inside him and take him. He wanted to bend him over this table and make him squeal. All the kid had to do was say the word and he’d have his pants around his knees and his cock halfway buried inside him in a heartbeat.

Brayko hummed a joyful tone as he pressed down on Michael’s dick, instructing him as if he were his pet.

“Get it out for me, Michail.” He purred, setting down his drink and reaching for a little mirror that was on his side of the table. At first it had been a little off-putting but Michael was starting to get used to the kid’s drug habits. It wasn’t as if he could convince him to stop. If he even tried he’d probably catch a bad case of lead poisoning from those goddamn cannons he carried around in his flashy blazer.

He didn’t hesitate, watching Brayko dip his finger into the little puddle of crushed pill product and slowly lick it clean. Watching him eat it was pretty sexy, but he’d never admit that. He liked to think he was a good person, not the type that gets off on watching a guy eat fucking _MDMA_ while touching his cock. God, he couldn’t get his pants open fast enough. His hands were shaking.

As soon as he’d dealt with the zipper Brayko’s foot was pressing against him again, through his underwear.

“You’re barely touching your food, Michail.” Konstantin winked, sucking another helping off of his finger before popping a piece of roasted potato into his mouth.

Thorton started eating again, slowly but surely. It took a lot of focus not to blow his load in his pants with the way he was touching him, and the smug look on his face. He needed to strip him down and ravage him. He needed to consume him. He’d fucking destroy him when he got the chance, and Konstantin knew that. That was why he was doing this. Michael finished what was demanded of him, tugging his erection free from his underwear.

“Please, Konstan-“ He was cut off by the younger man’s foot on his bare cock, suddenly able to feel the texture of his silk socks. Of course he had worn silk socks. He was the type to do that. He wore silk socks just to show off, and to drive Michael crazy. It was working. Brayko leaned down to snort the last line on his mirror, then giggled.

“Please what, Michail? I am not a mind reader.” He ate at a leisurely pace as he jerked off the older man with his sole under the table.

There might have been a heavy curtain muffling any noise, but there were still people out there. The room was full of Brayko’s guys who were raiding the buffet and feeding their faces. They were right there in the room with them. Someone could peel back the curtain at any moment and see Michael bright red and sweating with their boss’ foot on his fucking dick. The thought of it was humiliating and sickening but it made his head swim and his blood rush.

“P-Please let me cum, Konstantin.” He spat out, shamelessly groaning as the man pressed his sole against the underside.

“Well, you’ve eaten like a good boy.” He surveyed Thorton’s plate and his own, and then made his move.

Brayko slipped his foot back into his shoe and for a moment Michael whined in disappointment. Once he got to his feet, though, he shut up immediately.

The guy walked around the table like an alley cat, stopping right next to Michael’s seat. Thorton looked up at him, waiting for him to say something or do something. As usual, he only used half of his shirt buttons and left a large expanse of skin exposed on his chest. Michael wanted to grab his hips and bury his face in his skin. He wanted to kiss the centre of his chest and hold his ass with both hands.

“Okay, since you’ve been so good _Michail…_ Maybe I can give it to you.”

He leaned forward and, in one sweeping motion, shoved everything on the table off of it. Their plates, cutlery and the candles all crashed to the floor, and Michael threw up his eyebrows in surprise.

He undid his belt unbearably slowly, shook his jacket off his shoulders and threw it over his chair. Being forced to watch him undress himself was unbearable. Now they were really fucked if someone opened the curtain. Once he was reduced to his underwear, Brayko laid his body over the table. His chest rested on the blood red tablecloth and his legs were dangling deliciously off the edge. He looked over his shoulder and gave Michael a wicked smile.

“You want to cum, Michail?” He moaned, grabbing his waistband and slipping his tight black underwear down to his knees. Jesus Christ, he was wearing a fucking butt plug.

A little angular plastic limb jutted out from his ass and he reached back to slowly pull it out. It was pretty big, too. The thought of that thing being inside him since Michael had first arrived was exhilarating. He’d greeted him in the foyer and led him by the arm to the buffet with a solid hunk of silicone wedged against his prostate. He was _dripping_ pre-cum onto the tablecloth, his ass facing Michael in a lewd display as he finally got the whole thing out. It dropped to the floor with everything else.

“Go ahead, Michail. You can cum wherever you would like.” He sighed.

That was permission enough. In a second Thorton had his hips seized in both hands and was shoving his cock in the man’s ass. Brayko gasped and tilted his lower body to get more inside him. Jesus, he’d lubed up so perfectly before the older man had even arrived. He may have been a loose cannon but this kid was undeniably erotic as fuck.

He wasted no time. Brayko hated it when you tried to get gentle with him. He’d learned that the very first time, when he’d pinned the bruised gangster down on the floor of his own discotheque. At first he wasn’t sure. He’d told him no matter how attractive he was he wouldn’t lose self control. He’d insisted the kid needed medical attention, not further physical exertion. Not wanting to irritate all his bruises, he’d tried being gentle. Konstantin had urged him to go harder, begged for him to _make_ it hurt. Told him if he didn’t he’d never forgive him. Told him if he died he was doing it right. That night, Michael had sat down on his cock and rode him until he could barely say anything but his name and ‘more’. He'd kissed his neck and bitten down on his bruised collarbone. Konstantin had sobbed and moaned as the American fucked himself on top of him, his hips unbearably sore but his brain singing with pleasure and intoxication. The first time hadn’t lasted long, too feral and feverish to last. The thrill of beating the shit out of each other had been the perfect aphrodesiac. That, and all the cocaine. Konstantin had been practically vibrating. Apparently he’d had enough cocaine in his system that the medic he’d seen afterward had been surprised he was still alive.

Now he pounded him hard enough that they could both hear his hips snapping against Konstantin’s ass. He rocked himself back onto Michael’s cock like a well-trained whore. He took handfuls of the table cloth into his fists and groaned through his teeth.

“Michail. Do it inside of me.” He urged, sweaty and trembling. “Inside of me, please.”

Every time before now they had been careful to use a condom. Sure, they were both clean but the discomfort it would lead to and the clean-up just weren’t worth it. Now, though, he wanted it. He was demanding it. Who was Michael to deny him?

“Okay. Okay baby, here you go.”

Michael bent over him and gripped his shirt tightly in his fist, angling his body and forcing him harder onto his cock. Konstantin gasped, every thrust beating hard against his prostate and filling him perfectly. His muscles flexed and clenched as he started to come close himself. When the American came inside of him he practically screamed, reaching down to finish himself off. It didn’t take long for him to reach his own climax, making a mess on the tablecloth underneath him.

“I need some fucking coke.” He muttered, scooping up part of the tablecloth to wipe himself off on.

Michael dropped onto his chair, pants still open. He let Brayko rub him down, and tucked himself away once he was more or less clean. He was still reeling from the force of what the Russian had just done to him. It blew his mind how he seemed to undo him every time without fail. Glancing up he watched Brayko wander out through the curtain in just his socks and underwear. He could hear the clamour of people out there again and suddenly realised there was no way they hadn’t heard them. He’d had their boss throwing silverware to the floor and screaming on his dick, and they’d been in the room the whole time. At least some of that had been overheard, even through the heavy curtain.

“Get me some fucking coke, Bukowski! Yeah some fucking coke! You fucking deaf?” He heard Brayko bark at one of his guys. “I ask for a little coke after I empty my balls, you bring me coke in four second you cunt!”

He threw his arms up, waiting for the guy to say something. Then he smacked him on the head and kicked his backside as he hurriedly left. The others looked on, equal parts terrified and confused as he motioned for Michael to follow him like he were beckoning his dog. There was no reason to argue – Michael followed the younger man out of the dining hall and towards his bedroom.


End file.
